


Endurance

by Destina



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-18
Updated: 2005-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destina/pseuds/Destina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex, seduction, and willpower. Or lack thereof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endurance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thegrrrl2002](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrrrl2002/gifts).



> Originally posted to LJ in April 2005.

Jack burrowed closer and buried his nose in the joint of Daniel's shoulder and neck. He'd already decided that in order for him to leave the bed, there would have to be an emergency - Goa'uld invasion, or national security issues. A breach at the mountain, maybe; a foothold situation.

Or a full bladder.

When Daniel stirred in his arms and jostled him, Jack winced. It was a lot easier ten, even five years ago, when he still had the Bladder of Steel. It had been a necessary piece of equipment on covert ops. Nowadays it seemed to have shrunk to the size of a dried pea, and was just about as pliable.

He rolled out of bed with a groan and shuffled to the bathroom, where he leaned against the wall, half asleep, and aimed carefully; his early morning accuracy was not the best. Then he went back to the nice, warm bed and climbed in behind Daniel, curling up against the hard length of his body to get warm again.

Daniel turned over and pressed against him lazily. "Time to get up," he murmured. Jack was already up, though he was pretty sure Daniel was too sleepy to notice. So he put a hand on Daniel's ass and pulled him close. A smile appeared on Daniel's face, though his eyes were still closed. "Hey," he said, softly, and the husky morning rasp of his voice made Jack grin. "We have to be in early this morning," Daniel said, even though he'd already closed his fingers around Jack's erection and was squeezing him slowly.

"Easy for you to say," Jack said, a little breathless. Jesus, thirty seconds of a handjob and his concentration was completely shot. "You're not the one who has to go out the back door, climb the fence and run two miles to your car."

"In the snow," Daniel added, as his thumb stroked over the head of Jack's cock. "Uphill."

"Uh," agreed Jack. He closed his eyes and took Daniel's dick into his hand, and after each sharp intake of breath, he stroked again.

"Two miles should be no problem. Whatever happened to your stamina?" Daniel asked, quickening his pace.

"Last night," Jack gasped. "Plenty. Stamina. Yes?"

"I love it when you're like this," Daniel whispered. And then he kissed Jack, mouth open, morning breath and fuzzy tongues forgotten, and they stopped talking. Faster and faster, hands and mouths and Christ, Daniel's noises were enough to bring Jack off without a single touch. Luckily Daniel touched him anyway. They had no finesse at all, grinding against each other, erratic motions of their hands, grunts and moans and then Jack's hips jerked once, twice, and he was gone, right over the edge. He looked at Daniel through slitted eyes, watching as Daniel parted his lips and let out a moan, and then Daniel came all over his hand.

For a while, Jack dozed, Daniel's soft cock in his hand, until Daniel stirred and shifted. "Mmm," he said, and Jack knew exactly what he meant by it.

"Yeah." And then, as fragments of their pre-coital conversation crept back into his mind, he protested, "I have plenty of stamina."

Daniel smiled. "Okay, maybe stamina wasn't the right word."

"Dr. Jackson, linguist, chose the wrong word?" Jack flopped over on his back. "I'm asleep, right? I'm dreaming."

"I simply wasn't precise enough," Daniel said. "Sexual prowess is one thing; endurance is another."

"Sexual prowess," Jack said, and then he couldn't help it; he started to laugh. Prowess was a word that did not inspire him to heights of manly sexuality. All of a sudden Daniel swung over him, a mass of muscle and half-hard cock, and kissed him so thoroughly that Jack could imagine going at it again.

Almost.

"Prowess," Daniel said softly. "But no endurance."

Jack flipped Daniel over neatly and straddled him; Daniel had a sleepy smile on his face, and his lips were parted, just a little. "I endure your endless lectures, don't I?" he demanded. "I endure your snoring. I even endure your morning breath."

"You know that's not what - oh," Daniel gasped, as Jack cut him off with a kiss. He planted his hands on Jack's shoulders and for a moment, Jack thought he was going to push him away - but instead, he pulled Jack down, on top of him. Jack grunted and shifted sideways, so he could stretch out his legs.

When he let Daniel speak again, Daniel was much less intent on his point. "Endurance," Jack reminded him.

"Oh. Right." Sleepy, sated blink, and then: "I'll bet you can't go a week without fucking me."

Jack made an effort to keep his eyebrows on his face, since they were threatening to launch into orbit. "Are you challenging me?" he asked, as his fingertips circled Daniel's left nipple. Oh, yeah. _That_ look - the fuzzy, unfocused one - was a keeper. "Because if so, I want something to make it worth my while, since I think _you_ can't go a week without fucking me."

"I can go more than a week," Daniel said. His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Not that I want to, you understand. But I can."

"Really?" Jack said, thinking about the time Daniel had tackled him in the kitchen after five days of off-world separation. "Maybe so. But I can go longer. Months. _Years._ "

Daniel's expression shifted, and Jack knew he got it; after all, it hadn't been Daniel who spent years ignoring his attraction to Jack. That shoe had been on the other foot. "That's pushing it a little far," Daniel said. He reached up and ran his fingertips through Jack's hair. "Let's go a month. First person to give in has to pay."

"Define 'give in'," Jack said.

Daniel chuckled. "Semantics? I thought I was the one who -"

"I just want to know what my boundaries are," Jack said, and sat up. "I'm good with boundaries."

Daniel sat up cross-legged and faced him. "First person to make physical contact in a sexual way is the loser."

"What're you buying me when you lose?"

"Hmm." Daniel tilted his head; the gears were turning. "Ah! I know. A new barbeque."

"What's wrong with the old one?" Jack asked. He'd burned many a fine steak on that thing.

"Uh, not user friendly," Daniel said, and the fact that he'd eaten all those burned steaks showed plainly in the twitch of his mouth. "And you'll get me the full illustrated set of the Miritaki translations."

"Whatever that is," Jack said. "Deal."

"Deal." Daniel leaned closer and licked the lobe of Jack's ear. "I don't see any reason to start right away, though."

"Oh, no," Jack agreed. "After breakfast." His mouth was watering already. 

 

Day 1

 

Jack was dripping with sweat. His t-shirt was plastered to his body, his sunglasses kept slipping down his nose, and his head felt like a ripe melon about to pop open. "Is it getting hotter?" he said, to no one in particular, because he was sure he was melting from the inside out. 

"Yes, sir," Sam said dully. Her fair skin blazed red under the ferocious sun. "It's 110 now. We'll have to get back to the gate within half an hour to avoid hiking back at the hottest part of the day."

"Daniel?"

"Almost done." Daniel squatted in the dirt, clawing away sand and lifting out several cracked tablets. He seemed totally unaffected by the heat. He'd removed his shirt and shoved it into the waistband of his pants; sweat glistened on his shoulders and ran in rivulets down his back, pooling in the small of his back just above...

Jack shook his head and looked away. Oh, _hell_ no. He was not going to be distracted so easily. He thought about looking up into the giant sun, just to do a number on his retinas so he wouldn't be tempted to stare, but he'd have hell to pay with Fraiser, after. So instead he squinted up into the sky and thought about ice cream, and running several miles in the park the minute he got home, so he'd be too tired to think about Daniel's bare skin anymore.

Daniel was moving around now, and Teal'c had gone to help him. Jack peeked over in their direction and...oh, not fair. Daniel was stretched out across a rock wall, muscles straining, grabbing at a piece of the obelisk. Teal'c had a hold of his legs so he wouldn't fall. Daniel's ass was extended, and his body made a long, lean line...the tops of his hips were visible above his BDUs, with hand-sized hollows just where the bones curved out...and then he said, "Ooooh," with intense pleasure. Which meant the chunk of old writing had popped off in his hand.

Abruptly Jack stood up and yanked his cap down. "Time to go," he ordered. Sam nodded wearily, in total agreement. "Daniel. Teal'c! Stuff those things in your packs and let's get moving."

"Okay," Daniel said. He was sitting on the wall, covered in dust, still streaky and sweaty; Teal'c handed him the tablets and he dutifully wrapped them and packed them. 

But his blue eyes were twinkling as he looked at Jack.

Jack scowled. Score one for Daniel. But the month was young.

 

Day 3

 

There was nothing to be done with it; he needed a haircut in the worst way. Jack stared at his hair in the mirror. Like most mornings, it was sticking out every which direction; unlike most mornings, it refused to yield to the comb. He plucked at the cowlick; it sproinged up even straighter. If that was possible. It looked like he'd just gotten out of bed after a night of rolling around in the sheets.

Which gave him an idea.

He ran his hands through his hair, producing something akin to a soft punk rock look, and grinned. It would do, for what he had in mind.

The briefing was boring, as always. Long, as always. Daniel seemed unfocused, however, which was a pleasant change. He stared at Jack's hair with the rapt attention he sometimes paid to translations and artifacts...and other things, depending upon the circumstance. Jack watched him lick his lips - twice - and knew exactly what he was thinking about; he could see the gears turning in Daniel's head, churning away, whirling up a few choice fantasies. Daniel's hands twitched, then flexed against the tabletop.

"Dr. Jackson?" Hammond said. For the second time.

Daniel swiveled around and got up so fast he tripped. When he righted himself, and whipped around to glare at Jack - as though he'd stuck his foot out, which he hadn't - Jack leaned back in the chair and smiled.

"Uh," he said, as he arranged his papers on the table and studiously did not look at Jack, "I have a few observations about the relative position of the temple within the terrain." He looked over at Jack, blinked; Jack let his head fall back just a bit - just enough for Daniel to get the full experience of bedhead plus bared throat. Daniel swallowed hard and flushed pink. "Terrain," he said again, and cleared his throat. He managed to get out a few more sentences before he looked at Jack again, and this time, there was a steely, detached determination in his expression. Daniel Jackson, consummate but horny professional.

Jack had never enjoyed a briefing so much in his entire career.

 

Day 4

 

Jack stood in the middle of Daniel's office and gawked at the disassembled wall - or at least, its photographic representation, cut up and reassembled all over the office, taped to every visible surface. "You brought me down here to look at this...because?" he asked, turning around in a complete circle. 

"Because it's Ancient, and you might be able to -"

"Oh, not this again. You know I don't remember any of that stuff." Jack's brain began to throb just thinking about the possibility of attempting to translate that much writing. "This is your thing. Not mine."

"Well, unfortunately, it's your thing now, too. You actually have the most recent experience with it - you were stuck in that time loop," Daniel said. "You memorized a large number of words."

"And immediately tried to forget them all," Jack said, smiling bitterly. Oh, how he had tried to forget. Three days of sleep, followed by the immediate banning of froot loops from the mess hall menu.

"Tried, maybe, but I really do need your help." Daniel crooked a finger at him.

Jack sighed and went to stand beside Daniel. "Make it quick."

"Quick?" Daniel looked at him. "Have you noticed how much of this there is?"

"Hard not to."

"Let's start here." Daniel took a pen and drew a straight line down the side of one column, then across. Jack squinted at the column; even blown up, the print was tiny.

"You couldn't make this easier to see?"

In answer, Daniel handed him a magnifying glass. Jack took it, swung it around in his hand, and said, "Sexy." He held it up to the page, then stepped closer. Already his eyeballs were melting. "What now?"

"Read to me."

"Right. And the part about me not remembering...that was lost on you?"

"Read what you can." Daniel picked up his notebook and a pen. "I'll just take notes."

And he stepped in behind Jack. Not touching him - oh, no. That would be too easy. No, he was close enough that his body heat was scorching the entire length of Jack's back; his breath landed gently on the nape of Jack's neck, raising the hair there. Jack shivered.

"Cold?" Daniel asked. The bastard.

Teeth gritted, Jack said, "Ego, ergo...nada."

"Come on, Jack. No kidding around." Daniel leaned forward, just for a moment; the weight of his shoulder pressed into Jack's as Daniel reached over him and tapped his pen against the paper. "Start here."

For a half an hour, Daniel was stuck to him like glue. Every time Jack stepped sideways, Daniel stepped with him; he leaned to the left, and Daniel leaned with him. Daniel's voice got progressively softer until Jack thought he might have to actually put his lips against Jack's ear to be heard - and oh, wow, did he not need to be thinking about that. Or about the things Daniel usually said in that tone of voice. Sweat broke out on Jack's forehead at the thirty minute mark, right around the time Daniel said, "Having fun yet?"

Carefully, Jack set down the magnifying glass and then turned around abruptly, knocking Daniel out of his way in the process. He put a hand on Daniel's chest and gave him a little push, right into the filing cabinet, then stepped into his space. Daniel's eyes widened. "You're crowding me," Jack said softly. He pulled his hand away. His entire body was electrified like a live wire; Daniel's breath was coming quick.

"Is it working?" Daniel said, completely unashamed, in a voice that made all the blood rush to Jack's dick.

"Not today," Jack lied. He gave his shirt tail a good yank, then rolled his neck and straightened. "Are we done with this? Because I hear the stale coffee in Carter's lab calling my name."

"For now," Daniel said, like firing a shot across the bow.

 

Day 7

 

Sunday morning was not the same when the only coming Daniel did was to the door instead of in the bed, but Jack was prepared to accept a few sacrifices in the name of a shiny silver propane barbeque. So when he answered the door and saw Daniel there in a black t-shirt and jeans, he already had countermeasures in place.

"Come on in," he said, and studiously avoided looking at Daniel's ass while he passed by. "What'd you bring?"

"Bagels, danish, beer and orange juice."

"Best breakfast ever," Jack said, and went back to his project at the dining room table.

"What the hell is all that?" Daniel stopped and stared at the mess.

"Model airplanes," Jack said. He picked up a piece of balsa wood and a shaping tool and began working the wood slowly, one curve at a time; one groove, one notch, one corner filed away.

"I didn't know you built those." Daniel opened the fridge and piled in the supplies, then came back to the table with the paper in hand.

"Used to. Haven't since I was a kid." No point in telling him that he'd planned to show Charlie how to build them, someday. It wasn't a sad memory, just one of his many free-floating regrets.

"I was never good with my hands," Daniel said, as he picked through the paper. His eyes, however, were locked to Jack's hands, following the motion of his fingers as he worked the wood.

"Couldn't prove it by me," Jack said. He met Daniel's eyes for a long moment, then put all his concentration into the wood. Daniel sighed out a long breath and opened up the entertainment section of the paper - which, Jack happened to know, he never actually read in their Sunday mornings in bed. World, local, editorial, naptime. That was the order of things for Daniel. And he never gave Jack hell about sports, comics, car ads.

For the next twenty minutes, Jack slowly put a perfect slope on the edge of a wing, using a small square of sandpaper and a delicate touch. Up the curve, then down, just the way he liked to touch Daniel's skin; curling his fingers beneath the edges of the wood, rubbing his thumb over the top. Daniel continued to read the paper without turning a single page.

And then Jack picked up another piece of wood and started over.

Daniel slipped from the chair, leaving the newspaper behind, and escaped down the hall to the bathroom. By that time he emerged, red-faced and a little sweaty, Jack had neatly piled the model pieces into their box and had set his .45 and a set of grease and brushes out on a clean hand towel. "Have I ever shown you how to clean a handgun?" Jack asked, running his fingers lovingly down the barrel.

"Not fair," Daniel said, staring at Jack's hands.

Jack smiled. "Who said anything about fair?"

 

Day 11

 

Ground. Sky. Ground. Repeat. Eyes left, eyes right, hand up to shade him from --

"Jack?"

He roused himself to Daniel's implied question and took another cautious look at the welcoming committee. Eleven naked women were undulating in front of SG-1, breasts swaying back and forth, delicate hands fluttering in the air over their heads. "Uh," he said, and closed his eyes out of politeness. The afterimage of nipples was chasing the darkness behind his closed lids. He cracked an eye open and glanced at Daniel, who was nodding in time to the screeching flute music. "Daniel. Does this little display have a purpose?"

"They're welcoming us, Jack." Daniel leaned back on the cushions. "And I think it's important for us to embrace their customs and traditions, don't you?"

"Very funny." Jack shifted around in the cushions like a dog rooting for a comfortable position. This was really not what he needed at this particular moment in time; he had enough on his...mind. He didn't dare look at Carter, who sat just to his left, ramrod straight and totally silent, or at Daniel, who had a weird ability to exercise scientific detachment in the...face...of nakedness.

"Jaffa women would not agree to participate in such a display," Teal'c said. "It would be considered most inappropriate." He waited a beat and added: "Which is unfortunate."

"Must be a cultural thing," Daniel said softly, and Jack smiled; it was as though Daniel had lifted the words straight out of Jack's malfunctioning brain.

Row after row of the girls passed by, getting closer on every pass. Carter made a sort of strangled noise when they bent lower, shaking body parts in a way that made Jack flinch back. Daniel leaned forward to listen to the pronouncements of the clan chieftain. "Well, that's interesting," he said suddenly, and a smile crept slowly across his face.

"What?"

"You're going to have to do a ceremonial laying on of hands, Jack. As our leader, it's your duty."

"Tell me this isn't some sort of clichéd-"

"You have to massage a virgin."

"At least that eliminates all of us," Carter said under her breath.

The tip of Jack's finger wagged in the air, all by itself, pointing at the bobbing breasts of P4D-888. "One of...?"

"Apparently."

"Always happy to do my part," Jack said immediately. "Have you figured out what 'massage' actually means?"

Daniel raised his eyebrows at Jack. "Just what it says. I think the preferred targets are her ankles, wrists and shoulders."

"All the erogenous zones." He stretched, cracked his knuckles, and handed his P-90 to Teal'c. "Do I just pick one?"

"Well, no. I think they have a whole scenario in mind for this. After they've finished their dance, of course."

"Of course."

"Will the rest of us be required to participate?" Teal'c asked. Jack thought he sounded just a tad too hopeful.

"Well, they did want Sam to participate in the welcome dance - sort of a, ah, er..."

"Tit for tat?" Jack said, smiling into the spectacular grin Daniel gave him.

"Oh, no no no," Carter said hastily. "Daniel, tell them-"

"I already did," Daniel said. "Cleared that right up. I had to demote you to do it, though."

"Who'd you promote in her place?" Jack asked.

"Me." Now it was Jack's turn to raise an eyebrow; Daniel said quickly, "Because I'm translating. They think that makes me your second in charge."

"Ah." Just then a little crowd of females surrounded Jack and pulled him to his feet. "This feels familiar," Jack muttered; the image of Kynthia popped into his head and squashed whatever fun he might have been about to have. "Daniel?"

"Just go with it, Jack," Daniel said, in the mildest tone imaginable.

"Easy for you to say," Jack answered. After all, they weren't touching Daniel. And then it dawned on Jack, who whirled around and fixed Daniel with a stare. "Daniel?"

"Whenever you're ready," Daniel said, gesturing to one of the women, who presented him with her hand. Jack took it, smoothing her long, soft fingers between his own much older ones, and met Daniel's eyes. Daniel was watching with interest, and something more; a sublimated, calculated desire, a look it had taken Jack years to understand and recognize. Nothing, _nothing_ made him want Daniel more. The _bastard._

After a few minutes of rubbing the poor girl's hand, during which Daniel's eyes never left his, he patted her hand and let loose of her. She smiled and bowed, and Jack smiled back, and great cheers erupted all around them. "Glad that's over with," Jack said, and came back to sit down. Daniel shifted next to him so that their shoulders touched.

"Don't be too sure, sir," Carter said, and pointed. Behind the retreating girls, a line of very large, very muscular men was moving toward them.

Automatically, Jack raised the P-90 ever so slightly. "Daniel?"

"Don't be alarmed," Daniel said, but he was already on his feet. "I think this is the conclusion of the welcoming ceremony." Just as he spoke, the men stomped their feet on the ground and let out with a mass chant, and then reached down, and -

"Oh my god," Carter said, and turned away; the pink of her blush was like the heat of a thousand suns. Jack's eyebrow rose in astonishment; next to him, Daniel went rigid.

"What are they saying?" Jack asked, sotto voce. He glanced at Daniel, who had gone completely pale.

"Uh, what you did, that's...huh." Daniel cleared his throat and smiled, a little sheepishly. "It's my turn, next."

"With...?" Jack gestured at the stomping, waving, extremely well-endowed men who were eyeing Daniel.

"Apparently." Daniel bowed his head and said, almost inaudibly, "Because they think I'm the second in command."

_Free show,_ Jack thought, and immediately sent his brain to the _requisitions, supplies, budget_ place. Talk about a backfired plan. Poor Daniel. Beautiful women were one thing, but this... "Carter, you sure you...?

"No, sir," she said, still turned away.

"Well, now." Jack rested one hand on the top of his weapon. Ready, but relaxed. "Just remember, Daniel - ankles, wrists, and shoulders." He smiled. "And don't let them manhandle you."

 

Day 16

 

It was Jack's personal rule on the range: six boxes of ammo, minimum, or it wasn't sufficient to actually call the amount of shooting they did 'target practice'. Jack could still remember when Daniel wouldn't touch the ammo, when he would actually allow the range master - or Jack - to load his weapon for him. Those days were long gone, and now Daniel was even picky about his ammo. Bought it himself, brought it to target practice, and bitched if anyone ran short and tried to steal a few bullets.

Carter had once told him she visualized a dark silhouette at the end of the range, no matter the shape of the target. Teal'c was probably years beyond needing a mental image to goad him on. Daniel, though...it had taken Jack more than a year to get him to admit he was always shooting at Apophis. Which kind of freaked him out, a little. Not because he didn't think Daniel wouldn't actually do it, someday, but because he didn't think _Daniel_ thought he would do it.

He stood behind them while they shot, watching their individual form. Carter was textbook perfect: elbow tucked in, head at a good angle for her, and she always sighted the weapon carefully. Teal'c had taken to automatic weapons as though he'd cut his warrior teeth on them, so Jack didn't even give him more than a cursory glance; some things were genetic for Jaffa.

Daniel's technique had improved a lot. He still had a tendency to hold the weapons too loosely in his hand, and he didn't control the jerk of his wrist when firing. But his accuracy was good despite that. Jack moved up behind him and pushed his elbow down. "Tuck it in," he said, for the hundredth time. Daniel didn't look at him, just brought the elbow down and emptied his weapon at the target. "Better," Jack said. The hair on the back of Daniel's neck stood up; Jack was close enough to see. He backed off, just a bit.

"All right, load up," he ordered them. Teal'c and Carter switched clips on the P-90s; Daniel laid his down and loaded up his Beretta. "Shooting for dollars," he said, and their expressions turned serious - game faces. One by one, they emptied their clips into the targets. Daniel's arm was down; his control was...perfect. Huh. Jack could tell without calling up the targets that he had shot better than Jack had ever seen him. Clearly he'd been practicing.

Jack's eyes traveled the lines of Daniel's body, from the legs-apart stance to the tension in his shoulders. He would work that tension out with his fingers later, when they -

_\-- damn._

Jack frowned a frown that yanked his libido right back from the brink. He didn't need a calendar to tell him it had been over two weeks of this. He might as well have been slashing gigantic red X's on his desk pad. If he had a desk pad. Or a desk. 

Just then, Daniel dropped the clip out of the Beretta and slammed another one in, and Jack quietly covered his face with his hand. Clearly, payback was a bitch. The gun metaphor was getting out of control. And he didn't need to see Daniel's face to know he was all too aware of the effect his incredible competence was having on Jack.

Damn him.

 

Day 22

 

Oh, he knew he shouldn't. Knew it, had thought about it all last night, and the night before that, and in that morning's briefing, and in the locker room when he practically ran away from the idea of Daniel shucking off his clothes, and what the fuck was that all about, anyway? They were fine at work, they were always good, they never had issues with conflating work and sex. Never. They could calmly, rationally sit half-naked next to each other and engage in small talk while pulling on fresh socks. Sure they could.

But not right now.

Which was why Jack had sternly told himself that no matter what Daniel wanted, no matter how hot he was to show him a new 'translation', he wasn't going near Daniel's office without Carter or Teal'c in tow. There were things in the balance: his checking account, and the future of the top sirloin in the freezer. He firmly reminded himself of this in the morning when he brushed his teeth, and in the elevator on the way down, and even as he was turning the corner into Daniel's office. Alone.

"Daniel," he said, ever so casually.

"Jack." Daniel looked up at him from over the top of an enormous fern. "What brings you down here?"

"Oh, you know." Jack picked at the corner of the lab counter. "Just catching up with a member of my team."

"Right," Daniel said, in that distant tone that always meant he didn't believe a word Jack said. "Can't you go torture Sam for a while?"

"She's off doing some kind of science thing with Major Miller."

"That's right, I forgot," Daniel said, though clearly he hadn't forgotten at all. "So you have no one to play with. Except yourself."

"Very funny," Jack said, eyes narrowed.

Daniel met his eyes for a long moment, then bent his head to the plant and began speaking. Not English, though. Something familiar...Jack had heard it before, and in this same tone: soft, like fingertips over rough velvet. He closed his eyes to listen. Daniel's voice could be so damned erotic and soothing at the same time; he imagined Daniel's tongue, sliding over the consonants, wrapping around the vowels, shaping each syllable until it was smooth and ready to be spoken.

He reached around and flailed a hand until he found a chair, then pulled it up behind him and sat down. All the while, Daniel kept talking. Jack opened his eyes and waited for him to stop, but there was a strangely tender expression on Daniel's face; he was bent low over the plant, telling it god knows what - stories? Mission reports? What did makee a plant grow, anyway?

"What is that?" he asked, when Daniel had stopped speaking.

"Ancient Egyptian," Daniel said. Jack nodded. Of course. It was too familiar; he'd heard Daniel speak it several times.

"Just out of curiosity..."

"Why am I speaking it to the plant?" Daniel finished the thought. Jack nodded. "I don't know. They seem to like it."

"They?"

"The plants." Daniel took his glasses off and set them on the counter. "It stimulates them." There was that tone again. _That_ tone.

"Don't start," Jack warned.

"I never stopped." Daniel came around the counter and stood facing him, not quite between his legs - it was a respectable distance, to anyone who didn't know just what exactly the hell was happening here. Jack's knees snapped closed automatically. "And anyway, who invited you down here?"

"You've got a point," Jack muttered. He pushed the chair back ever so carefully and stood up. "Do you do that to your plants at home?"

"Sometimes. Usually. Why?"

"When this is over..." Jack smiled crookedly at him. "Consider me a plant."

Daniel nodded, looking pleased, but for once he didn't press his advantage. Probably planning some future evil; Jack took the opening and backed away.

It really hadn't been a good idea to go down there. And now the visceral memory of Daniel's voice speaking those softly glottal words was echoing around somewhere between his heart and...Christ, he _so_ wasn't going to get any sleep that night.

 

Day 27

 

Each time he dialed Daniel's number, Jack added a digit. The first time, he'd stopped at two and slammed down the phone. Then three, then four...he was up to six now. Which, coincidentally, sounded like sex, when said with the right kind of twist on the i.

Desperate. It was an accurate description of his state of mind. He finally admitted it to himself that morning in the yard, when he'd mowed, weed-whacked, trimmed, weeded, and mulched the lawn into submission and still hadn't managed to stop thinking about the bet. Really, he didn't need a new barbeque. He was happy with burnt meat. Daniel didn't seem to mind it much either. And he'd looked up those translations online, and they were expensive as fuck, but Daniel could probably put them to good use. Brains vs. barbeque...definitely, brains would get the better end of the deal.

But there was the principle of the thing to consider. Daniel was too damn sure of himself. Jack had never had a problem with self-control. He could not be seduced by little things like body heat and glottal stops. Nope.

Daniel picked up the phone on the third ring.

"Hey. You busy?" Jack kept his tone light, casual. Yes. Casual. Daniel wouldn't notice -

"You can't come over."

"Hey, did I say anything about coming over?" A tiny part of him was wounded, but now the trick would be to play it off. "I just wanted...uh..."

"To come over. And you can't."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because!"

Jack pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it, as though he could see Daniel's face, interpret his expression just from the way he'd answered the question. He sounded...oh, hell, yes, he sounded desperate.

Finally.

He put the phone back to his ear and said, "I was thinking I'd bring pizza, and we could watch the game."

"I hate hockey."

"But you'll miss my commentary."

"No, I won't." 

It took Jack a second to get that; he scowled. "Hey! You like my commentary."

"No, I just make you think I like it so you won't leave. Because I don't want you to leave."

"Except today, because you won't let me come over in the first place."

"No." Daniel was sounding less and less firm.

"Look," Jack said, and sighed. "I'll be on my best behavior."

"You will not! I know you. You'll get over here, and the next thing you know, you'll be doing things to make me crazy."

"Oh, and you're so innocent, right?"

"I never said that," Daniel said, and all of a sudden his tone changed completely, and it was like talking to a porn star by proxy. "But I look at you, and I have to contend with wanting your hands all over me. I have to try not to think about you bending me over the table and fucking me, or biting my nipples until I come, or -"

Whatever else Daniel might have said, Jack missed completely, because it was at that moment that he broke. The next day, he found the pieces of the phone in the corner; the phone had probably landed there, when he flung it at top velocity. He knew he had broken, though in fact he didn't really spare much thought for self-recriminations; he was too busy running red lights on his cross-town speeding spree.

He let himself into Daniel's apartment - because that was what he had the key _for,_ wasn't it? - and looked around wildly. Daniel was nowhere to be seen. Jack shrugged off his jacket and tossed the keys on the table, and then he heard it: running water. A shower. Daniel's shower. With Daniel in it.

Later, he discovered he'd ripped his shirt when he'd torn it off, but he really didn't remember that, either.

Daniel looked up, startled and a little smug, when Jack pulled the shower door open. Jack looked at that smug smile, and at the water dripping from Daniel's nipples, from his cock, and all he could think about was wiping that smile off Daniel's face. Daniel stepped away from the stream of water and leaned against the shower wall - one hand out to ward off Jack's advance - and ordered him, "Say it."

"Come on, Daniel!" Jack stepped halfway into the shower, frustrated, but Daniel held up his index finger and said,

"Ah! Say it!"

Jack stared at his hard nipples, at the water streaming off his body, and sighed. Teeth gritted, he said, "You win!"

Daniel dropped his hand. Immediately Jack slammed the shower door shut behind him and then he was pressed against Daniel, skin to skin down the length of their bodies and god, it was perfect, it was so good, with Daniel hard and his own dick hard against Daniel's, and he took the time to wrap his arms around Daniel's body before he buried his face in Daniel's neck. "Finally," he said, which was more than he actually meant to say but a hell of a lot less than he was thinking.

Daniel seemed to get him, though, which was pretty lucky, because he knew he could not form a sentence at that moment if his life had depended on it. Daniel was stroking his dick, fingers moving from base to the tip of his cock in slow, continuous, lose-your-mind motion, and Jack kissed him, open-mouthed, until Daniel's movements became a lot less sure, a lot less even.

Jack got his hand around Daniel's cock and Daniel arched into his touch, still pressed against the shower wall but now he was thrusting forward into Jack's hand, head back so that Jack could get his teeth into Daniel's neck just _there_ , which made Daniel cry out his name. He loved that. "Yeah," Jack said, affirmation, encouragement, whatever - just so Daniel made some more noise. He braced himself against the wall and kept moving, kept kissing, biting, and Daniel's hand stripped his cock faster and faster. It had been building for weeks, and now - Daniel gasped and came with a low moan, and the sound of it was all it took for Jack, and he let the pleasure wash over him.

Weak-kneed, he leaned into Daniel, one hand cupped around the back of Daniel's head where it had slammed into the tile. Daniel chuckled weakly, but otherwise he didn't move; his head fell forward to rest on Jack's shoulder, and Jack held them both up. He tightened one arm around Daniel's shoulders, and ran his fingers through Daniel's wet hair, stroking his scalp. He turned his head, so Daniel would have to hear him, and whispered against the curve of Daniel's ear:

"You win."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Salieri and Brighid for beta.


End file.
